


My Strong Right Arm

by MichellesPenScratchz



Series: My Preposterous Borderlands Extended Universe [5]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Post-Tales from the Borderlands, Romance, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27956009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichellesPenScratchz/pseuds/MichellesPenScratchz
Summary: It was bad enough when the specter of Handsome Jack lurked in Rhys' dreams, waiting to do him harm again and again from the shadows of his own subconscious. But now Rhys was made to watch Sasha suffer Jack's unending vengeance in nightmares, too.It was time he confided his nightly fears in her.
Relationships: Rhys/Sasha (Borderlands)
Series: My Preposterous Borderlands Extended Universe [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873684
Kudos: 12





	My Strong Right Arm

“Sasha, there’s something I want us to…touch base on,” Rhys said to his fidgeting hands.

“‘Touch base’? That’s a ‘you’ way of putting it, but sure,” she said. The couch cushion shifted as her weight sank into it beside him. “What’s up?”

“…I keep having this dream,” he began hesitantly. “We’re in bed, and I wake up (in the dream) to you screaming. And I look over, and there’s my thumb—the right one—in your eye socket. I can’t get it out. I can’t stop--” he swallowed the lump in his throat, “hurting you. Then there’s this laughter right as I wake up.”

“Well, that would suck,” she said, tentatively. “But that’s just a dream.” She tilted in to look directly in his eyes. “That _is_ just a dream. Right?” The last word was laser pointed.

He was way ahead of her, “R-right! Right. Jack’s gone, Sash. Beyond question.” He smiled grimly. “I mean, I only had one working eye at the time…and my central nervous system may or may not have been overloaded with unspeakable pain. But I definitely saw him disappear that night.”

Sasha’s expression relaxed. “Alright, Rhys. I trust you,” she said softly. Those words were music to his ears. _Sasha._ Trusted _him._ The same girl whose grifter stepdad’s final words to her were “Trust no one.” Even after Rhys had hidden a megalomaniac in his head from her, she managed to trust him. It defied explanation, but he knew what they said about the mouths of gift horses.

Her hand covered the mismatched pair that fidgeted in his lap, willing them to be still. “Hell, I’d probably still be having nightmares, too,” she went on. “It’s a cliche, but remember that these words literally saved my life: _Time heals all wounds_. That’s all you need: time,” she assured him.

He inclined his forehead against the top of her head. “I cannot overemphasize how grateful I am for those words,” he said, squeezing her hand in his lap. “But what if he somehow comes back? Hyperion was a company where devotion to Handsome Jack was basically a minimum qualification, and Professor Nakayama was what you’d call ‘overqualified.’ He could have saved a backup file of the program somewhere, or sent it to an intern by mistake. Or, maybe someone on Helios managed to get an email out before…you know.” He shut his eyes for a lingering second. “And, say, a fragment of Jack was hiding in the attachment. That would mean there’s a Jack virus out there, just biding his time in one of those ‘send to six of your closest colleagues’ chainletters. Say I click on it one day. Because let’s face it, the consequences for inaction they threaten in those subject lines are no joke. Then, _boom._ Jack in the Atlas mainframe--”

“Hey, don’t.” Sasha hovered a finger over his lips to silence him. “You’ll make yourself paranoid if you start thinking like that.”

“You’d be paranoid too if you’d heard the things he said at the end,” Rhys retorted. “I’m paraphrasing here, but the gist was ‘I’ll be back when you least expect it. You could be sleeping, or (uh, looser paraphrasing here) _with somebody_.’ You get what that means, right? Jack comes back, the most fun he could ask for is the choice between killing me, or making me watch you suffer first by my hand, and _then_ killing me. Probably with an equal amount of suffering. Sasha, I couldn’t--”

“Okay, stop, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” She took his face in both her hands and pressed her forehead against his. Her thumb glided just under his eyelid, wiping away the beginning of a tear that threatened to form. Her green eyes shone with tenacity. Through determinedly clenched teeth, she said, “I won’t let that happen, I promise. Jack’s not getting anywhere near you again.” Bitterly, she added, “And he’s sure as shit not using your arm on me again.”

“Yeah, well, don’t take this as me doubting you or anything,” Rhys said. “But how are you going to stop him if he does? …Take over, I mean?”

“Uh, remind me: what does this company produce?” She stamped her foot on the ground to indicate the multiple floors of Atlas HQ below their feet. “You know, the company you made me Lead Weapons Tester of? Jack tries anything with your arm again, I can always just blow it off.”

He blinked. “Oh.” A few additional blinks. “Yeah, I…guess that could work. Though, I’d prefer to think of it as a last resort.” With a nervous titter he smoothed his hair. “A _very_ last resort.”

“Then how’s this for a second-to-last resort?” She reached into the pouch on her belt and revealed an EMP device. “Fiona made me keep it on me ‘for emergencies’ when I took this job,” she explained. “You give me the signal, and I’ll press this button to remind Jack he’s nothing but electricity now.”

“Okay, I like the sound of that, uh, _marginally_ better,” he said, relieved. “So, what’s the signal?”

She shrugged. “I dunno, blink twice or something?”

“What about,” he stroked his chin in thought, “‘Code Cyan’?”

“Code Cyan, fine,” she agreed. “And if I end up having to waste your arm, I promise I’ll get you another one.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “Any arm I want?”

Her brow crinkled. “Um...”

“You _did_ just shoot me in this hypothetical,” he reminded her. “While I was going through a particularly traumatic relapse, I may add.”

“That’s true,” she conceded. “Okay; any arm you want.”

“Shall we evoke the sacred rite of pinky pact on it?” He offered his little finger.

She took it with hers. “I promise not to let another Jack hurt you. And if that means blasting your arm off, I promise to replace it.”

“Thanks, Sash.” He released her hand and examined his arm. “I _have_ been considering something snappier to convey my Atlas brand,” he said, turning his cyber palm up and down to inspect it. “How do you think I’d look in paisley red?”


End file.
